


Playing Innocent

by BrandiChampane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shota Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandiChampane/pseuds/BrandiChampane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shota!Cas fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Innocent

Dean waits in the kitchen, Castiel will be home from school soon and he should be making lunch. Instead, he is trying to finish an English paper on folklore. He is working on the citations when the doorbell rings, Cas is home and he still needs to make lunch for them both. Dean unceremoniously tosses his pen onto his notebook and pushes away from his chair. He will have to finish his citations later tonight he supposes.  
Cas continues to push the button, sending an echo of dings through Dean’s small living room. Dean grumbles to himself and pulls the door open to be met by a pair of soft, blue eyes. Castiel is in one of his outfits today, a cat sweater with a pan collar and a short, ruffled shirt. Cas must have changed in the schools bathroom because his thigh highs are twisted, the pattern wrinkled. One hangs low against his boot, he tries to pull it up only to have it slide down again. Dean widens the door and ushers him in.  
“Hey big boy.” After the door is shut, Dean leans in and kisses him on the cheek; Cas’ cheeks are rosy when he steps back.   
Dean has always admired the way his boy can turn into something so sweet and innocent when they both know otherwise. Castiel will blush and duck his head when Dean is watching. Other times he will sit and bite on his thumb, looking like the epitome of purity. At first, Dean hated the idea of Castiel being so childlike, even if the boy is still in high school, but it grew on him like fungus. One day, he is pulling the boys thumb out of his mouth, the next he is fucking him from behind, trying to shove it back in. He is ashamed, but when Cas pouts his kiss bitten lips, eyes staring into his soul, he feels like he definitely cannot be blamed.  
Castiel ducks his head and drops his backpack by the door. He kneels on the carpet and unties his laces, tucking his shoes beside his bag. Dean watches, taking in the way the thigh highs snug his runner thighs so perfectly. Castiel is so slim; strangers could mistake him for a girl, Dean thinks. Then again, he does not want strangers thinking about his Cas period, it is better Cas only wears his outfits for Dean. Castiel gets a grip on his stocking and pulls it up his calf, Dean’s eyes tracing the whole move. Castiel makes ignorance an art form in small ways, teasing Dean with something as simple as fixing a sock.   
Dean smiles at Cas’ turned back and moves to the kitchen to try and fix something for lunch. Castiel pads into the kitchen while he is retrieving the bread, set to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He can hear Castiel’s pout and huff of annoyance behind him, chuckling to himself. Slender arms wrap around his waist, Castiel’s head resting in the dip of his spine. Castiel huffs again, this time vibrating against Dean, something he cannot ignore.  
“Something the matter, baby?”  
“You didn’t have lunch ready.”  
“I know, I had work to do.” He points to his notebook and laptop, still open to his citation page.   
Castiel stands on his tiptoes and kisses Dean’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I should have known.” He pulls the knife from Dean’s hand and pushes him away with his small hip. ‘Let me.” Dean relinquishes his grip and lets Castiel make them sandwiches.  
The process is slow and torturous, Castiel licking and sucking at his fingers every time he gets peanut butter on them. The noises he makes are sinful, while his eyes remain there childlike charm. Dean has to grip the arm of the chairs to keep from pulling him in his lap and fucking him raw. Finally, Castiel cuts both of their crusts off, tossing them in the trash, and sets a sandwich in front of Dean, sitting down with his own. Dean is too engorged in his sandwich that he misses the way Castiel whimpers and shifts uncomfortably when he sits.   
Castiel’s constant shifting in his seat distracts Dean from his sandwich, eventually he has to set it down to see what is wrong. Castiel is changing the angle he is sitting at, trying to find a position that is comfortable. While Castiel crosses and uncrosses his legs, dramatically is Dean has anything to see about it, Dean can catch the flash of pink, lace, panties. The thought of his baby boy walking into a woman’s clothing store, walking around the racks of underpants until he find that one perfect pair, Dean cannot hold back, not anymore.   
Dean pulls the sandwich from Castiel’s hand, tossing it on his notebook, and pulls Castiel into his lap. Castiel whimpers and shifts his hips, grinding down on Dean. Dean swallows a moan and pushes Castiel’s skirt up his thighs, Castiel prefers to keep it on when they do this. Castiel’s breath skirts over Dean’s neck and he begins biting at the skin, small amount of pressure, just enough to get Dean moving. Dean lifts Castiel until he can get a hand underneath and move the lace to the side as he tries to tease at Castiel’s hole and is surprised when he meets something hard. He pulls Castiel back so he can make eye contact with him.  
“You got yourself all plugged up, baby?”  
Castiel plays with the hem of his skirt, still pulled up his thighs, ducking his head. He nods, and when Dean lifts his chin, Castiel’s face has a dark flush to it. This is new for them, they thought about it, but he never thought his boy would do it. The thought of him sitting in his room before school, working himself open and slipping a plug in, all while catching the bus to school is enough to make Dean come in his pants like a teenager. Dean’s fingers grip into Castiel’s boney shoulders as he tries to calm himself.   
“Got yourself all ready for me,” his voice is rugged now. Castiel nods again and kisses him, sloppy and wet, they way he does when they play this game. Dean groans and bucks his hips, grinding against Cas, who whines and moans.  
Dean pulls the lace to the side with one hand and wiggles the plug with the other. Castiel moans again, small hands clinging to Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean slides the plug, leaving the tip in before pushing it back in. Castiel moans again, voice high, Dean admires him for keeping up the rouse even as he teases him. Dean pulls the plug free and lets it roll on an empty chair. Castiel whimpers again, grinding into Dean’s lap for some sort of contact.   
Dean slides a finger in, earning him a new moan, Castiel is loose enough for him to slide a second one in easy. Castiel bucks in his lap and works himself on Dean’s fingers. He can feel the clench around them as Castiel grinds onto them. Castiel breathes heavy against Dean’s neck, breathing out more and please between moans. Dean lets him unbuckle his belt and slides his Jeans down his thighs until they are resting at his ankles. He pushes in a third finger, wanting to make sure his boy is thoroughly prepped before slamming into him. Castiel is begging for it though, whispering about wanting it all day, since he woke up and slipped the plug in. Dean groans and pulls his fingers free.   
Dean gets a grip under Castiel’s thighs, once he is lubed, lifting him, before letting him sink onto his cock. Cas moans and wiggles his hips until he’s sitting comfortably on Dean’s lap. Dean starts the rhythm, holding Castiel’s hips while he grinds into slowly, not wanting to hurt his baby boy. Castiel tosses his head back and bites his lip, holding back his moans. Dean wants to hear him so he thrusts in harder, hitting his sweet spot and Cas nearly screams, nails biting into Dean’s shoulders. Dean grunts and moans along with him, thrust after thrust.   
Castiel’s hand finally releases its purchase, wrapping around himself, thumb stroking over the head through lace, but Dean’s not having it.  
“If you’re such a slut for my cock, you’re gonna come from it alone, you hear me.” Castiel whines, pulling his hand away and nodding furiously.   
Castiel returns his hold on Dean’s shoulders as Dean picks up pace, thrusting in harder now. Castiel whines and begs for release, just a stroke to tip him over the edge, but Dean does not give in. Instead, he shifts his hips and pounds into Castiel’s sweet spot over and over, relentlessly. Castiel arches and moans, practically screaming as he holds onto Dean like an anchor. Dean’s close, knows he will not last long, but Cas still has to come and he takes care of his baby. He bites his lip and tries to keep his own completion at bay, working Cas until he finally cries out and spills over his lace, come seeping into the fabric. Dean finally lets go and comes, riding Cas through his orgasm.   
Cas slumps against him, breathless. He kisses Dean’s neck, his cheek, up to his lips. He licks at them until Dean opens up, kissing him until they are both panting. Castiel slides off Dean’s lap and fixes his skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. Dean buttons his pants and spots his notebook.   
“Guess that won’t do me good anymore,” he says, peeling Castiel’s sandwich from the page.


End file.
